


there is a truth and it’s on our side

by spacenarwhal



Series: second star to the right and straight on [5]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic, F/M, Future Fic, Kid Fic, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:04:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacenarwhal/pseuds/spacenarwhal
Summary: "Mama?” Auren whispers drowsily, turning in Jyn’s grasp. The storm worsens outside but Auren doesn’t sound scared, squirming closer. She buries her face against Jyn’s neck, her legs bending against Jyn’s ribs until they fit together. Her beautiful daughter, this everyday miracle of hers, Jyn still feels choked by how fiercely she loves her, knows in her bones the devastation this love of hers would wreck if ever provoked.But there’s more to it, Jyn understands it better now, this slow lesson Jyn’s been learning since she trusted herself to seek out the comfort afforded by letting people into her life. There’s more to love than blood and fury. Love is this too.





	there is a truth and it’s on our side

**Author's Note:**

> Some days you've just got to write cuddles.

Jyn wakes to the drowsy drizzle of rain on the rooftop. 

It’s still dark out, nothing but the muted drumming of rainfall and the in-and-out of Cassian’s breathing at her back. 

It still takes her aback sometimes, these quiet moments that can exist in their home, the surprise enough to take her back to those first months when the silence was a stifling burden, a weight on her chest she didn’t know how to push off. Jyn would awake uneasy, seeking out the constant white noise of an engine burning or soldiers bustling back and forth just beyond the door of her quarters, so unused to the stationary life of a civilian after a lifetime of battles. 

Then Auren was born and her cries were a jarring, jagged thing, dragging Jyn from sleep or worse, from her own thought, pulling her back to a present, to her yawning fear, her aching numbness, the worry and the feeling of inadequacy that gnawed on her constantly. Looking back on it now is still enough to make Jyn’s stomach turn, no matter the years that lie between the woman Jyn is now and the person she was then. 

Jyn turns on her back, listens to the rain drop outside, listens for every minute sound around her, more easily discerned now, the creaks and sighs of the house all around. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust, the shadows shifting until they’re easier to tell apart. She tilts her head towards Cassian, can make out little more than the darker shadow of his head on the pillow. He’s curled away from her, folded into himself, barely stirring when she presses her fingertips against the small of his back. They’ve gotten used to one another’s presence, and it’s the greatest form of trust Jyn’s ever been gifted with, how he can sleep undisturbed even as she moves away. She makes sure to pull the blankets back over her side of the bed to keep the still-chilled air of early spring out when she gets up. 

The floors are cold underfoot, so Jyn slips her feet into the soft broken in leather of Cassian’s house shoes. They slap quietly against the floors, far too big for her feet but Jyn can’t be bothered to look for her own, unsure where she left them when she came to bed last night. He won’t mind, Jyn’s sure of it, she’s done this a hundred times before after all. The door whispers open and Cassian turns, stretches out on his stomach beneath the blankets and Jyn smiles faintly before she goes. 

The hall is a little bit brighter than their room, small strips of luminescent dots lining the base of the walls. They were Kay-Tu’s idea when Auren first started sneaking out her bed at night and creeping into theirs. Jyn’s big enough to admit it was a good idea, someday she might even tell Kay directly.

Kay-Tu is powered down and charging in the corner of Auren’s room when Jyn enters, her daughter’s constant guardian these five years. Jyn looks at him in the dancing lights cast by the lantern Bodhi sent Auren for her last name day, stars and space ships in all the shades of a supernova, swirling purples and greens and iridescent pinks. Kay’s dark chassis makes the perfect backdrop for them, they almost match the metallic paint Auren used to press her handprint over the Imperial insignia on Kay-Tu’s arm. 

Auren sleeps on, unbothered by Jyn’s entrance, her breathing coming in even wisps, breathy exhales even as Jyn lowers herself onto the mattress besides her. The rain is falling harder now, beats with greater urgency against the window pane. Jyn presses a kiss against the top of Auren’s unruly hair, already coming free of its braid, wraps an arm around her small body and curls her own body around Auren’s. 

“Mama?” Auren whispers drowsily, turning in Jyn’s grasp. The storm worsens outside but Auren doesn’t sound scared, squirming closer. She buries her face against Jyn’s neck, her legs bending against Jyn’s ribs until they fit together. Her beautiful daughter, this everyday miracle of hers, Jyn still feels choked by how fiercely she loves her, knows in her bones the devastation this love of hers would wreck if ever provoked. But there’s more, Jyn understands it better now, this slow lesson Jyn’s been learning since she trusted herself to seek out the comfort afforded by letting people into her life. There’s more to love than blood and fury. Love is this too, the people who stay and the people who grow alongside you, the people you seek in the quiet moments before any harm is ever done. Love is holding her daughter even when she hasn’t cried out in fear. 

Jyn hums under her breath and Auren settles against her, her breathing easing back into sleep, wet-warm over the kyber crystal Jyn still wears. (When she was a baby with an affinity for putting everything in her mouth, Mama’s necklace was Auren’s favorite thing to grab for, more tempting than Baze’s hair or her father’s nose. Chirrut used to joke it was only the Force that could sooth Auren’s teething when the kyber seemed the only thing that could stop her pained crying and there was such normalcy to it that it wasn’t until later, lying in bed next to Cassian that Jyn realized she didn’t puzzle nearly so often at what her life was anymore.)

The galaxy is not a kind place, and none of them, not Cassian or Baze or Kay, not even Jyn no matter how furiously she wishes otherwise, can keep Auren safe forever. One day they’ll have to better explain why they sometimes go quiet or the blasters they keep hidden, why they speak of people Auren will never meet and places Auren can never go. They’ll have to explain the wars they fought, and prepare Auren for wars she might one day have to fight on her own, no matter how much they hope those will never come to pass. But for now safety is the only life Auren has ever known, and theirs the only kind of family she needs. Five is still young enough that she’s never wondered at any of it, not why Chirrut can’t see but seems to know everything, not that Baze can coax nearly any plant to thriving bloom and still scare most strangers they meet, not at the scars on Uncle Bodhi’s hands. 

Right now, holding Auren, that day feels a hundred years away. Jyn won’t let fear tell her differently.

Auren goes lax in her arms and Jyn lets her humming thin to silence, presses another kiss to the top of Auren’s head—she smells like sleep and the lavender soap they use for her baths—and Jyn says a small prayer. For Auren and Cassian, for Kay-Tu, for Baze and Chirrut and Bodhi, for Mama and Papa and Saw. For what’s come and what might follow. She closes her eyes and lets the rain and Auren’s breathing carry her back to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Would you believe I'm still working on _we are what we become_? Because I am. Hoping to wrap that up this year. 
> 
> Man, I just love these dudes, the whole RO family. They're everything to me. 
> 
> Title from _Stay Alive_ by Jose Gonzalez.


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